


All Hail The King

by sobermeup



Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Achievement Hunter Kings, Big Bang Challenge, F/M, M/M, Mad King Ryan Haywood, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobermeup/pseuds/sobermeup
Summary: In a world of magic, Mad King Ryan takes more than he deserves. In stealing a magical orb he harms more than he intends to, cause the rapid decay of King Michael and the decay of a people he doesn’t know exists. When he executes Ray, Geoff, Michael, and Gavin are left with no choice but revolution. They will overthrow Mad King Ryan, consequences be damned.





	1. Prologue: Don't Cry Mercy

Late into the night all the creatures have quieted, the breeze settles, and all is still. Fires burn no more, the people sleep soundly. She looks down upon her creation and frowns.There is pain to come, there are deaths to be had. She cannot interfere, she cannot stop what is about to happen. One man will bring ruin and death. She can only hope that her people, the good people, take the opportunities she gives them. For it all can be saved if they listen.

King Ryan Haywood knew what he was doing when he began posting Uictorian military at Litore and Arbor stations. He knew what he was doing at Foreign Affairs conferences when he insisted that he needed to strengthen his military - despite that going against several treaties - because of the increase of witches. And he very well knew what he was doing the day he declared that the kings were not fit to run their kingdoms alone. When Arbor began having drought issues causing their supply of grain (that they didn’t import from Uictoria) to dry up and their livestock to die off, Ryan saved them by increasing the export of produce but not increasing the price, and working out a loaning situation where Uictoria gave Arbor part it’s livestock in exchange for a favor later on. He also rescued Litore from witches as his own soldiers were more experienced and stationed at Litore outpost. He also only asked a favor from them.  
  
This “favor” turned out to be the handing over of their Kingdoms. King Alexander of Arbor and King Ray the first of Litore had no other option. Ryan offered them a new sort of hierarchy. Ryan would be the king of the Uictorian Empire, reigning over all three kingdoms, they would remain in control of their kingdoms but would answer to Ryan on any matter he deemed important. With some threats and propaganda Ryan was soon crowning them Corantus Victus Alexander of Arbor and Corantus Victus Ray the first of Litore. He became the reigning monarch of all the territory north of the mountains.

The primary reason Ryan wanted to push borders and gain control was something of a mystery to the vast majority of the world. Everyone knew that a title Ryan held with pride was The Witch Slayer, but this led most to believe he charged into witch infested dens and started swinging his sword. The truth was far from this fantasy. He often personally interrogated the witches, listening to the voices around him telling him that there was something more.

Ever since he was a little boy Ryan knew he’d grow up to have voices in his head. Unlike others who say they can hear things Ryan is regarded seriously. He is descended from a long line of Kings with this gift. Pneuma Discerning; being able to hear the dead spirits. His father told him that when he was older he would be able to consult spirits on matters of the past, present, and sometimes the future. He wove wonderful tales of walking with Ryan’s grandfather in the garden despite the man passing many years before. Ryan’s father also told Ryan that while Pneuma Discerning was a gift, it was also a great burden. Silence would disappear from Ryan’s life, solitude would be nonexistent, and he could wave a hearty farewell to privacy. All hours of the day and night whispers, voices, would follow him.   
  
The voices were the reason that he pushed the borders. They whispered about a cave. The Istochnik Cave. There were legends about magic inside the cave. Whispers all about the orb. The orb was supposedly the reason that the powers were in the three families of the three kingdoms. He knew that if he had control of the cave, he controlled everything.   
  
The nobles of Uictoria were told Ryan was sick, a lie on top of the many others, explaining away his absence. The soldiers who were brought were told to keep their travels a secret, under threat of death. So, now Ryan and a group of soldiers are climbing down the Iacta cliffs. Situated on the border of Uictoria and Litore the cliffs hold so many caves that Ryan worries about stumbling into the wrong one, but whispers urge him on, telling him to keep going, to keep searching.   
  
Ryan’s fingers are numb and all of the men around him are breathing hard. He has the urge to wipe the sweat off his forehead but he knows his hands must stay on the rocks. Cold air whips against his face, quickly turning his sweat into a cold sweat. Ryan soon begins to feel a pull towards the left. His left foot tingles and it starts to run up his leg. He begins to move faster, using riskier foot holds, and panting. He feels a sharp pain in his calf but he keeps going. It’s almost as if his body is being pulled by a rope towards a ledge that only he can see.  
  
When Ryan’s feet touch the rocky ledge, a searing hot wave travels through his body and he gasps. He cannot see further into the cave but every single voice around him is screaming the same thing, telling him he’s right. Ryan can feel magic pulling him forward. He plants his feet and forces himself to wait. Tremors move upwards, starting at his feet and moving up, up, up… Ryan feels as if he’s been dunked into the frozen water of the river in the dead of winter. His whole body shakes. He squeezes his fists closed.  
  
“Your Majesty?” Ryan wheels on the person who spoke only to sigh with relief. James Willems, his personal guard, has a deep look of concern on his face for the King. Ryan shakes his head, swallowing thickly. He turns back to the dark cave. Finally the group of soldiers all stand on the ledge and Ryan holds out his hand, not looking back to the men. First he’s given a key, once he has it around his neck, it being strung on a chord, he’s given a small trunk, the trunk that usually held his crown. With the trunk in hand and the key around his neck, Ryan takes a step forward, leaving his men outside.   
  
Each step into the cave makes him feel lighter and lighter, until it’s almost as if he’s floating along the dark passage. The blackness gets deeper and deeper and he reaches for the torch on his belt.   
  
‘Light is coming!’ ‘No fire!’ ‘Light is near!’ ‘Useless! Useless!’  
  
Ryan has always listened to the voices so he keeps on, trudging forward. Stumbling along, his eyes furiously trying to adjust to the blackness. He thinks for a moment that his eyes have begun to adjust properly to the inky surroundings as he starts seeing the faint outline of the rocky walls again, but then things get incredibly bright incredibly fast. He doesn’t realize how quickly he’s moving until he slams into a wall that is not there. The trunk and Ryan go tumbling to the floor and he gasps for breath.   
  
With encouraging words all around, Ryan sits up and assess his surroundings. A circular room has been carved out of the rock, and words in a language he cannot read are inscribed on the walls. No longer in the blackness of the passage, Ryan’s eyes must now adjust to a blindingly bright light. In the center of the room stands a column that is topped with the source of the light. Ryan can just barely make out what it is but he knows that’s what he’s here for, that’s what drew him here. The orb seems to be made of glass and it contains a golden light. The light rests in the center of the orb and tendrils seem to reach out for something. They curve softly and twist around each other harmlessly. Ryan would've thought the light would blind him. Instead, it seems to seep into his veins and fuel his power. The orb floats above a spiral of obsidian. The obsidian is ornately decorated with diamonds, gold, jade, amethyst, and many other precious jewels and metals.   
  
Ryan watches in awe as light pulses up and down the column, lighting the gems so that they send sparkles all around the room. He feels tears well up. This is… this is something more than him. His whole life he’d always been unsure of what the truth was. He knows the legends of Mother Nature, but he didn’t believe them. Yet, here this is… Ryan knows what he believes now. If he were not here with a purpose he would begin praying, but he has a mission. He stands and grabs the chest. With a tentative hand, Ryan reaches out. It feels as if there is some sort of encasing all around the area. Like the peel of a pomegranate, protecting the soft, bloodred center of the fruit. Gently pushing his hand forward Ryan realizes there is give in the barrier. It takes a lot of strength to push into it, but he can do it. Carefully, he begins to step towards the orb. It feels as if the weight of ten men pushes him back each time he steps forward.   
  
Ryan’s desire to obtain the power is too great. He forces himself forward, with each step a greater difficulty than the last. All around him are screaming voices. He feels pain, he feels power, he feels alive.   
  
It terrifies him.

Ryan can hear his father's voice for the first time in years, urging him to stop. He doesn’t let it deter him. He steps towards the orb and feels the same searing pain in his body that he felt when first got his power. It is exhilarating.

He steps closer and closer to the orb, each step is forced and takes immense strength. When he finally wraps his arms around the orb he screams in agony. He feels the pain of every person who has inherited a power before him. Every dead king and queen screams with him. This is the end, he thinks, this is what death feels like.

Then it all stops. Everything stops. Surrounding him is only blackness. For the first time in years, Ryan only hears the sounds of his environment. Dripping water, a gentle whistling, talking in the distance - soldiers not souls. Ryan is suddenly terrified that he has lost his power. Then the orb flashes black, and he feels more powerful than he has ever felt in his entire life. It is no longer a struggle to hold the orb. He puts it into the chest and slams the lid shut, locking it immediately before pulling the key out and pocketing it.

Ryan swears to himself that he will be the only person to touch or see this ever again. The orb hums from inside the chest and Ryan feels almost in tune with it. He takes a deep breath and the cave seems to breathe with him. Again, he feels as if he’s floating as he makes his way back to the entrance. The light of day hits his eyes, and it seems almost dull compared to the bright light that came from the orb.

“Your Majesty,” a voice asks, Ryan barely hears it, “are you well?” Ryan turns and finds the source of the noise. The soldier actually seems concerned about Ryan’s well being.

“We heard screaming, your Majes-” The soldier stops and clutches at his chest, gasping and writhing in pain. Ryan draws his eyebrows together, watching the spectacle. A few of the other men turn as well. The soldier drops to his knees practically sobbing in pain. Ryan watches, blank faced, as the man chokes on nothing, looking up at him red faced with bulging eyes. The man drops to the ground, body limp, noise ceasing. The soldiers around him rush to the dead body, scrambling to find out what killed him. Ryan watches as the soul of the soldier shimmers in the light for a moment, then disappears.

Ryan turns to look out into the sea. A calm has filled him. “Your Majesty?” This voice Ryan knows. His personal bodyguard, James Willems, sounds… afraid. Ryan turns to the man.

“James,” he asks, his eyebrows raised curiously. James’ eyes flick to the dead soldier, then to the chest under Ryan’s arm. A heat begins to rise in Ryan, a feeling he easily recognizes as anger. The only person Ryan has even an iota of trust with seems to be questioning him. James suddenly clenches his teeth, hissing in pain. Ryan thinks it would be much better if James didn’t die as the other soldier had. Then, just as quick as it happened James’ pain seems to cease.

“I…” James starts, but stops, remembering his place. Ryan gestures for him to continue, “It was like something was squeezing my chest. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move... “ James’ eyes flick to the chest again and a match is struck against stone in Ryan’s mind. A spark of an idea. Ryan turns to another of his soldiers.

“Edgar,” Ryan’s commanding voice makes all of the soldiers turn to him. Edgar stands and steps closer to the king.

“Yes, my King,” he asks, lowering his gaze.

“Does it feel as if something is squeezing your chest?” Ryan taps the anger emotion well, directing it in his mind to Edgar. The man squeezes his eyebrows together, looking rather confused. But then it’s as if someone punches him. He gasps wildly and begins flailing. Oh, yes. Ryan believes he’s correct. Ryan sets the chest down and steps closer to Edgar, forcing him to step back. He wonders idly what it’d be like if Edgar was small enough to fit in his hand. Ryan could just wrap his fingers around Edgar’s chest and squeeze himself. He steps forward again and Edgar steps back, unwillingly participating in Ryan’s little dance.

“King Ryan,” James shouts but Ryan doesn’t listen. He pushes Edgar further and further back until the man stumbles and falls to the ground. Almost on the edge of the ledge, gasping and sobbing in pain, Ryan watches, joy in his eyes. He stands above Edgar. Yes, he’s most definitely right. He can cause this pain.

“Close your eyes,” he says to no one in particular, but a good warning for everyone involved. “Goodbye,” he says gently to Edgar. Ryan sets his toes against Edgar’s shoulder and shoves him over the ledge. He barely hears the scream over the roar of voices, alive and dead.


	2. Chapter One: The Golden Age is Over

Soaring on the wind above fields of golden wheat a hawk makes his way to the river that winds its way through the countryside. The Norte River acts as a the separating border of three countries. The western shore of the river belongs to Arbor. The eastern side has both the countries of Uictoria and Litore, though it mostly separated Arbor and Uictoria, it does cut the edge of Litore. The hawk lands on a tree branch, looking over to the denser forest that is the shore of Arbor. His piercing eyes search for the movement that should follow the terrible ruckus something is making. The hawk flutters his wings as a human emerges from between the trees. The human mutters to himself as he looks at the river he must cross.

“‘Don’t take any main roads’, he says. ‘Don’t let people see you’, he says. There’s no way I’ll-” he jumps as the hawk screeches in his direction. He shakes his head, putting a hand over his fast beating heart. Never in his life has Seamus Ryder been this jumpy. As a messenger - the Official Messenger of the Kingdom of Litore - he often travels across the winding river border that separates Arbor and his home country. With his occupation there is the risk of bandits or sometimes even aggressive wildlife, but Seamus has always been sure of himself. He received just as much sword training as one of his Majesty’s personal guards. It is a secretive job, being the messenger of royalty. A secretive, lonely job.

The journey is one he often takes, but at his Majesty, Corantus Victus Ray Narvaez the Second’s insistence, he takes a more rural route, off the beaten path. The journey back is much easier than the journey there.He’s already trekked through the woods once, and Seamus knows his country well. Compared to the rest of the terrain, Litore seems bare.Once he’s crossed the river into his home country vegetation is sparse giving way to sandy foothills. Toward the southern edge of the country, the part that borders Uictoria, there is considerably more plant life. The farmers just barely manage to grow crops. Nothing of the likes of the bountiful Uictorian farmers just across the border, but they manage. However, farming is most certainly not Litore’s main source of income. As the only country with direct access to the ocean - access that is by beach and not cliffs that would kill anything that fell from them - the main source of money for Litore is fishing.

Seamus smiles as he thinks of the market in the capital. The shiny pearls displayed as precious jewels, the large fish hanging out to dry, the brightly colored dyes brought back by traders from Arbor and Uictoria, the loud voices of merchants and customers bartering. One of his favorite pastimes is sitting in the market, nibbling on a piece of bread, watching. To watch the bartering and the gossiping. To see children running around, smiling and laughing. Seamus isn’t the only one who admires the market. He’s heard Corantus Victus Ray himself talking about the beauty of the people, how it brings him great joy to see the joy of his people. Seamus can’t imagine what that must feel like, to have his Majesty's power. He thinks it would make him feel like an intruder, being able to see people’s auras. He knows the Corantus Victus only ever uses his power for the good of his people… but still. To know someone's emotions without their permission.

It does make the royal an incredible communicator. Seamus has heard stories of him calming an angry room of protesters, of him cheering grieving widows, diffuse tense diplomatic conversations. To know someone’s emotions during negotiations, Seamus supposes, would be quite helpful.

Seamus’ arrival is received by the Grand Duke Gustavo Sorola. The Duke takes one look at the envelope Seamus shows him and shakes his head quickly. He leads the messenger to the Corantus Victus’s library a frown etched into his features. The Duke usually wears a much softer expression, one of concentration or thought. The lines of his face only harden this way when King Ryan is the subject of the conversation. Seamus had assumed that King Ryan was the reason he was trekking through backwoods to get to Corantus Victus Michael Jones of Arbor. The Grand Duke Gustavo nods to the soldiers outside of the library as they open the doors for him. He lets Seamus walk in first and the messenger has to take in a deep breath.

He could walk into this room everyday and still be in awe of its beauty. The high ceiling and columns give it a very intellectual feel, but the grand windows that look out onto the sea make the room feel open, breathable. You could very easily get lost in the bookshelves and just as easily ground yourself with a backward glance at the sea. His Majesty’s desk sits in the center of the room, surrounded by plush armchairs. Seamus wonders how many secrets this room could spill. The walls, the ancient books, surely they’ve heard things no human would dare let past their lips outside of this library.

There is a tension lingering in the grand library. Miles Luna sits on one of the plush couches in front of the fireplace across the library. He leans against the arm of the couch, looking toward the Corantus Victus. His eyebrows are furrowed.

“Your Majesty,” Seamus bows to the Corantus Victus, “I’ve returned from my journey to Arbor. I bring a letter from his Majesty, Corantus Victus Michael.” Seamus places the letter on the desk and Corantus Victus Ray sighs heavily. He draws his eyebrows together and turns his eyes to the man sitting on the couch.

“Miles,” Corantus Victus Ray drawls. The man chuckles, standing from the couch, a book in hand. He turns and bows to Ray. Seamus realizes he’s interrupted a conversation. He doesn’t remember how but he knows that Miles, the Corantus Victus’ cousin is a nobleman. Seamus can’t remember if he is a duke or an earl. Regardless, their close friendship is why Ray sending his cousin away surprises Seamus. Surely, he’d want his cousin present to discuss the letter?

“Yes, cousin, I know. I’ll be gone. Do think about what we discussed, though, won’t you?” Miles gives zero indication of the meaning beyonds his words, Seamus wonders if Duke Gustavo knows what Miles means.

“How did the journey treat you? I prayed that Mother Nature would bless it, knowing that changing your route may delay you,” Ray picks the letter up inspecting it closely. Seamus chuckles.

“It was quite well, your Majesty. I got to know parts of Arbor I’ve never seen before. The plant life is so bountiful that it is hard to believe it’s real. The trees off the beaten path are most obviously denser, and I saw flowers I’ve never seen before.”

The royal laughs, “Arbor is a beautiful country, is it not? Did you encounter any wildlife? The Ki- Corantus Victus is not called Mogar for healing his people.”

“Ah, no… Sorry to disappoint, your Majesty. I did not lay eyes on a single bear during my trip. I fear Mogar may have killed them off. Indeed it is a beautiful country, but I must say that the `dense trees make the sunsets much less enchanting.”

“Yes,” Ray starts, smiling, “one advantage we and Uictoria have over Arbor. The flat, almost treeless lands let us witness the most beautiful sunsets. Have you ever seen a sunset over the golden wheat fields in Uictoria,” the messenger shakes his head in lieu of a response, the Corantus Victus continues, “You really must. When I was first crowned King,” a beat, “I went on trip, you may remember, to Uictoria, then to Arbor. The first sunset I saw in Uictoria was the most beautiful thing. I thought for a moment that outside my window was a painting.”

A short silence as Ray continues to reminisce on simpler times. He tsk’s lightly and looks back up at the messenger. “Thank you for your dedication. Please, rest up, you are dismissed,” he says, all smiles. When the door to the library shuts, the bright smile on Ray’s face drops immediately. He picks up the letter and rips it open, pulling out the parchment quickly.

* * *

 

_Dear Ray,_  
_I have read over your letter and as much as I agree with you I cannot risk anything in the state that I am currently in. Everything is so very fragile at the moment. You are running the risk of losing it all. I warn you; be wary of what actions you take, for King Ryan will not be merciful. His army and power are no match for your own. I cannot risk any lives._  
_M. Jones._

* * *

  
“Shall I fetch Geoffrey and Joel,” Gustavo asks, glancing towards the recently closed door. Ray sighs, throwing the parchment back onto his desk. He tugs on his hair, wishing beyond all belief that he was back in those simpler times. He can remember them like they were yesterday. A reception ball in Arbor, dancing with Michael’s beautiful wife. A feast in Uictoria, ignoring the odd glance from King Ryan, eating and drinking to his fill. Ray particularly enjoys remembering his walks with Miles, in the market.

“No. No need,” Ray responds, “he’s said no.”

He and Michael were new to ruling, having been crowned less than a month apart. They both were eager to continue the alliances their father’s began. The diplomatic relationship between Arbor and Litore had never been stronger. They increased trade on both ends, bolstering the economies of each other’s countries. Michael laid his hands on a Litorian nobleman’s wife to heal her and Ray repaid him with pearls, a precious commodity in the forested area. But Ryan always stuck his hand in, stirred the pot you could say. Anytime Michael and Ray took a step forward, King Ryan forced them to take three steps back.

“But… Your majesty, that means-” Gustavo starts. Ray stops him with a hand in the air.

“I know. We must do this on our own.”

The diplomatic times did not last long. The relationship between Arbor and Litore had not changed, Uictoria had destroyed all hope of a peaceful alliance. King Ryan threw his proverbial hammer down, hard and fast. Ray had not had the foresight to protect his kingdom from the Mad King. Ray couldn’t image living his life. Pneuma Discerning they called it, the voices he heard. The Mad King wasn’t the only title he’d garnered over his reign. The Witch Slayer, the Vagabond Killer, but the most infamous was the Mad King. Ray still felt chills when he remembered the first time their eyes met.

Then, when he decreed that Michael and Ray would no longer be Kings, that they would be Corantus Victuses, ruling under him… Ray knew he was truly mad. But, there was nothing Michael or Ray could do. The slightest bit of protest ended with people dead. Ray couldn’t keep sacrificing his people.

Anything that even ruffles King Ryan’s feathers just a hair will get someone killed. Ray has had diplomatic convoys return missing one or two, sometimes even three people because they dared look at King Ryan in a way that offended him. Ray has had enough. It’s been almost three years since his father passed. Three years of terror, of people suddenly disappearing, of Michael getting sicker. He won’t stand for it any longer.

Ray wrote to Michael asking him to use the army that Arbor has to help Litore defeat Ryan, but Michael refused. Ray knows he most likely will not succeed in overthrowing Ryan but he must try. He must try to free the people of this tyrant.

“I will have to go myself, to speak with King Ryan,” Ray stands from his seat and moves towards the windows, worry carved deeply in his face. His eyes trace the distant shoreline, searching for answers the water cannot give him.

Ray suddenly clutches at his head, gasping at the searing pain. He falls to his knees, trying to grab something to steady him. Accompanying the very sudden headache is a stabbing pain in his chest, akin only to the pain he felt when his father died and he received the power. Just as suddenly as it was there, it is gone.

His palms flat on the floor, Ray gasps for air, struggling to regain himself.

“Your Majesty… is it another…” Gustavo asks. Ray nods, feeling as if he’s been wrung like a towel. These episodes began happening three years ago when he received his power. Ray refuses to see a physician, feeling in his gut that this has to do with the power. His father must have dealt with these episodes, handled them secretly, properly. Ray must do the same.

“Gus… I’ve changed my mind, go get Geoff and Joel. It’s time,” Ray pulls himself up, a hand on the window ledge. he wipes away the sweat beaded on his forehead as Gus quickly walks away. He struggles to catch his breath, an icy cold fear wrapping around his heart as he truly realizes what’s coming. He catches his reflection in the glass for just a moment, the orange outline around his body is not subtle. He must do this no matter the fear in his heart.

His three most trusted advisors all enter the room. They are all the same shade of burnt orange. Anger, fear. Ray studies each of their facial expressions. The hard lines of Geoffrey’s face starkly contrast the soft worry of Gus and Joel. Geoff steps forward, nodding to Ray.

They have always been the same, he and Geoff. Sure of what to do, consequences realized, risks calculated. That’s why Ray named Geoff as the heir presumptive.

Ray’s lack of wife and child leave Litore with nothing if he dies. The incredibly long discourse between all the noblemen of court about who should be the heir presumptive was cut short by Ray. Their squabbling would not change his mind, Geoff was most suited to fill his position if he were to die.

And that is a very real risk when going to see the Mad King Ryan.


	3. Chapter Two: Kneel On My Arrival

South of the mountain ranges, if you dare to find your way across the ravine, if you can manage to trek through the perilous jungle... You may find something unbeknownst to the rest of the kingdoms. The three kingdoms don’t usually see people go across the mountains, much less see people come back. So, how were they to know of another civilization? How were they to know of a people living amongst the towering jungle trees?

They weren’t to know that a whole people was living in the jungle. A whole people connected to nature, in harmony with it. This civilization is a different kind. The furthest from the orb, they are the most closely connected. A walk through their villages shows how closely connected they are. Everything they do is intertwined with the magic. It seems as if it runs through their blood.

When the orb was stolen this people’s way of life was stolen. For there is a shrine of Mother Nature not far from their villages. It stands nearly fifty feet tall. Wrapped in ivy and decadence the marble statue has been there since as long as anyone can remember. It sits cross legged, hands down on it’s thighs. The face is obstructed by what seems to be carefully crafted hair, and of course the hollow space. Water used to flow from the center of the chest of the shrine. That stopped when the orb was removed from the face of The Shrine of Mother Nature. The hollow space on its face reminds the people what they have lost. Of what was stolen. For not only did they receive clean water from the shrine, but it was also their source of magic.

It wasn’t until many years later that people began to fall ill. The last of the magic had begun to run dry, and with it the life force of the people. Their council decided a group must be sent immediately over the mountains.

And that’s what they did, a group of men began the trek, the fate of their people resting on their backs. The worry of going back to a people who no longer exist.

 

Gasping for air Corantus Victus Ray Narvaez the second claws at the Mad King’s hands around his neck. The air around King Ryan, his aura, glows vividly bloodred. Ray has never seen anger this raw and strong. Most auras are translucent, just faintly glowing around the person. Kind Ryan’s is almost solid red. For a moment Ray thinks he is seeing the same blood red color in Ryan’s pupils but then he’s on the floor, landing in a painful heap. He groans, choking on the noise as it claws its way out of his throat. His own hands go up to his throat, assessing the damage.

“Shackle him,” the Mad King commands, “His guards and servants, throw them in the dungeon. I will deal with them when I am finished with this.” Ryan kicks the toe of his boot into Ray’s stomach.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Ray doesn’t see the guards as they respond, his eyes squeezed closed from the pain in his stomach. The guards grab his wrists and force him to his feet and out of the room.

He just barely catches the King saying, “Assemble the court.”

The noblemen and women of the court of Uictoria assemble in the throne room quietly and quickly. After watching many of King Ryan’s brutal punishments they have learned to be where they’re told when they’re told. The throne is empty, the King has a habit of making people wait for him. They begin to get antsy as they wait, whispers about what this assembly was for. There were no plans to gather for another two days. One whisper carries the name Ray Narvaez the second and suddenly the court is buzzing with the name of the Corantus Victus of Litore. The court cannot see why Corantus Victus would be here, but then the doors open. King Ryan stalks in first, his arms behind his back, an angry look on his face. He climbs the steps up to his throne as the court bows to him and guards drag in a beaten Ray. They place Ray at the bottom of the steps.

Most would be trembling if they knelt where Ray kneels. Most would cry. Most would be praying. Ray does none of those things. He feels no fear anymore. He stands by what he said, he stands by his accusations. He is right and the truth will win in the end. He is sure of that. He can feel Mother Nature grieving for him already.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the court, before you is Corantus Victus Ray Narvaez the second. He arrives at my castle unannounced, with words of treason on his lips. Punishment is necessary. If any have grievances about the course of action I must take, speak now or forever hold your peace." The King's voice rings out in the silent throne room. The people of the court stand in neat rows, silent. No one ever has grievances against the King.

"Corantus Victus of Litore, Ray Narvaez the second. Perhaps we shall replace his title with perjurer. Renegade. Treacherous teller of untruths. He betrayed the ideals of the Uictorian empire. He speaks of unjust actions and outrage. He is a partisan, sympathizing with the scum who tarnish our beautiful land." The King stands and walks down the steps as he speaks.

"He says I have no right to lead, ladies and gentlemen. He disrespects the king who saved Litore from being overrun by witches. He is slighting, scheming. Planning to overthrow me. Me?!"

Ray doesn't expect the backhand. He is knocked sideways with the force of the Mad King's hand. There is a trickle of blood running down his cheek from where the Ryan’s ring contacted with his cheek. He rights himself and keeps his gaze on the Mad King's shoes. There's no use fighting anymore, his death is just another part of the story of victory against King Ryan. He wants the tyranny to end. For the people of Litore and Arbor to not live in constant fear. For the people of Uictoria to be able to live how they wish. For the Uictorian Empire to be restored to its former glory.

The Mad King unsheathes his sword.

"Corantus Victus of Litore, Ray Narvaez the second, I sentence you to a beheading, for the crimes of treason, disloyalty, plotting the death of the King, and perjury. What say you?"

Ray raises his eyes and looks into the King's eyes again. So blue, the turbulent storm from earlier today has been replaced with a calm sea. Ray says nothing, instead he spits on the King's shoes.

Ryan roars, and raises his sword.

The ladies in the court turn from the bloody scene. A proper lady doesn't indulge in bloody scenes.

Ryan stands, fascinated as Ray’s soul lingers. He flickers in and out of existence before finally disappearing. No one stayed for that long after their death. It sends chills down the Mad King’s back.

 

Across the river another has the same chills run down their back. Corantus Victus Michael of Arbor stops his quill mid sentence, a sick feeling in his stomach. He pushes back from his desk, hand on his stomach, groaning. He swallows thickly, thinking through all the things he’s eaten in the past day, not wanting to see any of it again. He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see the concerned face of his wife, Lindsay. She has unneeded concern. This has nothing to do with his deteriorating health, he knows that for sure. When King Ray the first died he had the same feeling as he does now. Though, when King Ray the first died he vomited. Has King Ryan, or his fellow Corantus Victus died?

Oh, gods. It suddenly hits Michael, like a bolt of lightning. Ray really did it. Didn’t he?

“It’s passing, I’m alright” Michael says but adds, “Mihi credite,” to soothe her. His use of the old language softens the worry in her eyes. As per Arbor tradition their vows had to be in the old language and they have continued to communicate with it occasionally.

She grabs his hand and kisses the back of it, saying, “Dilectio,” affectionately. He returns the sentiment of love and turns back to his desk, trying to get his mind back on track. The census records need looked over. He shivers as he picks the papers back up, feeling colder than normal. Michael picks up a quill and finds his fingers are too cold to hold it properly.

“Are you cold,” he asks his wife. He looks up and she draws her eyebrows together, nodding. Michael stands, moving to a window. The temperature continues to drop. He shivers again and Lindsay moves to be closer.

“Michael?” He turns to look at her and he realizes that his breath makes a small cloud in front of him. It is suddenly winter in the library.

‘Michaaaeeeeel.’

Lindsay’s eyes widen and she gasps. They both clearly heard Michael’s name called in the cold room. Ice slides into Michael’s stomach and not from the temperature in the room. He hears a cracking noise and turns to find the window freezing over.

“It’s- Michael, it’s a spirit,” Lindsay gasps, standing next to her husband. He nods, swallowing thickly. He’s sure now, Ray has gone and gotten himself killed. He wraps his arms around Lindsay, his instinct making him want to protect.

“I’m sorry, Ray,” Michael puts his hand over his heart and closes his eyes. Lindsay gasps again, not believing him, “he sent me a letter. He asked me to help him. I refused. I didn’t want the fate he has now received.”

 

Soft chatter fills the dining hall but Geoff cannot shake a feeling of unease. His Majesty should be back by now. He should be here, looking over his people. Geoff’s palms are unusually sweaty. Joel looks at him from the other end of the table and Geoff shakes his head, not wanting to voice his worry.

But it’s been almost three fortnights.

Geoff stands from the table, his brow knit together in concern. He has to go and pace in the library, worry encases his heart. He cannot eat. He knows Jack would tell him to calm down, to not worry about things he has no control over, but he cannot help it. Ray has gone to face the devil himself. He begins walking faster.

But just as he gets to the large doorway of the dining hall a frenzied servant runs into him. She begins to apologize profusely, tears streaming down her face. She grabs Geoff by the arm, shaking.

“Your grace,” she cries brokenly, “you must come! The party has returned!” Her warbled words catch the attention of the people nearby and they cease speaking almost immediately. Geoff opens his mouth to speak but the servant interrupts, “Please, your grace. They’ve returned. You must see! You must see now!” The entire hall has gone silent now and Geoff turns to call for Gus and Joel. They’ve already stood and are coming his way. Geoff nods to the servant and she quickly makes her way out of the hall, blubbering the same words over and over. When they finally get to the entrance hall the sight they see is one to behold. The three servants and three soldiers that went with Ray all look haggard and unwell. There are angry red marks on all of their foreheads, cuts, Geoff realizes. Two of the soldiers carry another, his arms around their shoulders. Geoff realizes that a bandage wraps around his eyes and he hates to think what he’d find under the it. The three servants all look bruised in places, their clothing torn and muddy. The smallest servant, a younger girl, holds a strip of fabric in her hand. She strokes it over and over, her eyes wide and unseeing. She opens and closes her mouth uselessly, no sound coming out. What horrors they must have seen on their journey.

“Where is his Majesty,” Geoff commands. The servant that stands in the middle flinches, whimpering and shaking, but he steps forward and Geoff looks at Gus and Joel. They both see the crisp, white envelope the servant holds. As the man nears, Geoff realizes that the cuts are actually a word and a number carved into the man’s forehead. The cuts read:

 **3**  
**Those**

Geoff takes the letter from the shaking hand of the servant and rips it open. The wax seal proudly shows King Ryan’s crest and Geoff staunchly ignores it.

To the Advisors of Litore,  
Your former leader was a disgraceful liar and traitor. He has been taken care of. The world has been rid of another useless, worthless renegade. I send back your servants and soldiers with a reminder. Line them up numerically and take my message to heart. I had to carve the word in as they can no longer speak. A punishment for the former Corantus Victus’ actions. Actions have consequences. You all must remember that.

* * *

_You have a month to name a replacement. If no replacement is named in that time, I will choose one myself. Send the name of the new Corantus Victus as soon as it is decided._  
_Sincerely,_  
_King Ryan Haywood_

* * *

Geoff shoves the paper into Joel’s hands and rushes over to the group of people. He looks at each of their numbers and gently but quickly moves them into a line, according to their number. Two of the soldiers are one and two. Two leans all his weight on One, struggling to stand. Once they’re in order Geoff steps back, struggling to breathe at a normal pace. His eyes trace over the foreheads and tremor runs through him when he reads it.

**FOR THOSE WHO SPEAK TOO MUCH.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Mihi credite - Believe me  
> Dilectio - I love you


End file.
